Fly True
by Cheryl W
Summary: Plagued by guilt, Hawkeye begins taking foolish risks but soon finds out that he's not so much joined a superhero league but a family. A family that always takes care of their own. No Slash.
1. Chapter 1: Velocity

Fly True

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Avengers or Hawkeye or any of the other superheroes gracing this work of fiction nor am I making any profit from this tale.

Author's Note: Ok, so I LOVED the Avenger movie and can't get enough of Hawkeye stories. So I decided to write one too.

Summary: Plagued by guilt, Hawkeye begins taking foolish risks but soon finds out that he's not so much joined a superhero league but a family. A family that always takes care of their own. No Slash.

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Chapter 1: Velocity

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In the Avengers eclectic group, it wasn't all that unusual to see someone in the middle of the air sans a parachute. Course that someone usually had the good sense of knowing they could _fly_ before leaping off a beam of an unfinished high rise building.

Tony Stark aka Iron Man felt his heart drop right down to his iron boots at the sight of their not-gifted-with-flying-ability Archer, Clint Barton aka Hawkeye, falling fast. He didn't wait to see where the idiot thought his flying arrow with attached cable could embed itself in a steel structure and miraculously save him from pancaking on the cordoned-off street below. Instead Tony hit his thruster and prayed that he was going to be fast enough to get in the narrowing margin between Barton and the pavement.

Doing a one handed scoop, Stark snagged onto his teammate. Holding Clint against the cold metal of his suit, he descended, waited until he was ten feet off the ground before he unceremoniously dropped the team's archer to land on his back in the dirt of the construction site.

The breath whooshed out of Clint at the impact and it took him a moment before he could drawl, "Gotta work on the landings, Tin Man."

Deactivating his helmet, Tony landed on the ground a few inches from his teammate's prone position, his expression thunderous. "You're lucky I didn't decide to drop you on your head!" he furiously bit out, pointing one of Iron Man's red fingers at Barton. "You think I don't know what that was all about," a lethal edge to his words.

Far from being intimidated by his teammate's rantings, Clint railed back as he climbed to his feet, "It was what it's always about, getting the mission done!" As if to punctuate his declaration, the in-process building shook with an explosion…on the level that Barton had left with such haste. "And now we're done," Clint magnanimously stated, beginning to walk by Tony, mind already on the cleanup procedures that needed to be completed.

Moving into Barton's path, Tony stared down at the archer from his slightly superior height. "No, no that wasn't about the mission. I'm practically an _expert_ at what that was, so don't try and sell me some lie," he warned, eyes boring into Clint's, hoping to detect an acknowledgment to his words.

But the SHEILD agent kept his emotions as close to the vest as he did his arrows. "Ok, I have no idea what you're talking about," and he made to side step Iron Man but a hydraulically enhanced hand reached out, hovered over his shoulder.

Refusing to let Clint blow him off, Tony's tone turned challenging, "Pushing the edge so far in the hopes that there's no coming back from it."

Steely meeting Tony's eyes, watching the other man's anticipation of his reply grow, Barton said nothing, simply used his cat-like litheness to slip around his opponent…and nearly collided with Steve Rogers AKA Captain America, or more specifically, the star on Steve's chest. Luckily, he was able to bring himself up just short of that catastrophe.

"You alright?" Steve worriedly questioned, grasping onto Clint's arm, glad that the man felt solid, whole under his touch. Because that outcome hadn't seemed likely a few moments ago, not when he had helplessly watched as the archer fell from the sky.

Extracting his arm from the Captain's hold, Clint bitterly snapped, "The mere human is fine. My _hero _rescued me." And then he shoved by Steve and headed for the rendezvous point.

Turning to Tony, Steven accused, "What did you do?"

"You mean _besides_ save his life…." Tony bragged as he fired up the jets on his boots and left a scowling Captain America in the circle of dust. But it was Clint Barton that he searched out from his higher elevation, saw the man conferring with the SHEILD agents on the scene. The picture of the perfect soldier…. '_who has a death wish_,' Tony grimly deduced, could now see that so clearly that it hurt.

Cursing Loki, his mind control abilities and the cruelly of fate, Tony Stark vowed to keep an eye on Clint, because if anyone knew how soul decimating it was to unintentionally play a part in taking innocent lives, he did. His weapons had taken hundreds of lives…and Clint's arrows they had the blood of fellow SHEILD members on them. And that kind of stain, it stayed with you, didn't leave, had to be beat down into something malleable that either killed you….or saved you.

And Tony swore right then and there that he wasn't going to let Clint Barton take the easy way out. The archer was part of the crazy team they had formed and, whether Barton knew it or not, that meant no refunds, no do-overs and no renegotiations. He was stuck with them for the long haul.

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TBC?

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Thanks for reading! And please let me know if you would be interested in more of the story.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	2. Chapter 2: Tension

Fly True

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Avengers or Hawkeye or any of the other superheroes gracing this work of fiction nor am I making any profit from this tale.

Author's Note: Oh my goodness! I'm overwhelmed by the warm welcome you guys gave me into this fandom! Thank you so much! Loved all the awesomely encouraging reviews, the favorite alerts and the story alerts.

Now, I do want to explain that, though I listed Tony as the 2nd character, he won't be in every chapter. Instead, each chapter usually involves a different Avenger character with Hawkeye. Sorry Tony fans! But he'll pop up here and there.

So, anyone up for some Natasha /Clint interaction this go around? Then read on.

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Chapter 2: Tension

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For Clint, sleep was the greatest of his enemies. There, all his sins unfolded, in cruel living color. That first night after the Avengers had repelled the aliens, he thought they were merely nightmares. He woke up shouting "No!" but gentle strong hands cupped his face, and a voice he trusted soothed, "Clint, you're fine."

Only then had he remembered that Natasha had bedded down with him the prior night. It was not the first time they had slept back to back, but it was strange since Natasha had a hundred other secure rooms she could have occupied aboard the Helicarrier. Was certainly the first time that she had, not only turned to face him, but rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist, seemingly holding on…or holding him down, he didn't know which. But he didn't protest, ran his fingers through her red soft hair and let his exhaustion drag him under.

Under to where the memories broke free, ripped away the filter his conscious mind kept in place while he was awake. Revisited the murders he had committed at Loki's bidding. He _felt_ the arrows between his fingers, the tension of the bow, watched the arrows fly…and strike one of his fellow SHEILD agents assigned to the Helicarrier. He awoke praying that it was a nightmare, not truth, not his actions, that the agent his arrow struck still lived. And he couldn't bear asking Natasha if he had hurt the agent under the Tesseract's influence, to hear her forgive him, defend him. Instead, the next morning he sought out the agent himself…only to find that the man was not at his station, another took his place. Another would always have to take his place.

The horror of what he had done, that he had taken a life of an ally, of a man who had the same beliefs, the same goals he did, had him stumbling away, being sick over the seafaring carrier's railing. And it didn't get much easier, seeing the faces in his sleep of the others he had attacked, then searching the corridors and levels for people who were no longer there. Who were dead by his hands.

The other agents, the ones who had been friends, partners and co-workers of the ones he had killed, he could feel their stares, read the fear in some and the hate in most. He was no longer one of them. He was the wolf among the sheep. Funny thing was, he knew he had always been the wolf, they just hadn't known it. But they knew it now, shoulder checked him as they passed in the hallway, cleared a table if he approached, dismissed his orders unless they knew they came from Fury. A reckoning was coming, he knew that, was waiting for it…hoping for it.

And when the seven agents cornered him in a deserted area of the ship, he felt relieved. It was finally time. Though he easily predicted the timing of the first blow that caught him on the jaw, he didn't raise a hand to defend himself. Not for the first blow or the others that followed. He deserved this, he knew that. All the pain they could deliver…maybe more.

He was on the floor, gasping for breath as boots plummeted him when he heard the snarled, "No!" recognized the voice if not the enraged tone: Natasha. Then Natasha Romanoff AKA Black Widow was there, like his own personal red haired avenger, punching, kicking, elbowing his attackers, selfishly steeling their attention from him. Her rage overshadowing theirs, she quickly gained the upper hand, pinned the ringleader against the wall, her knife pressed to his neck.

"Natasha, no!" Clint sputtered, broken ribs making talking, let along climbing to his feet a challenge but a manageable one. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand around Natasha's knife wielding one. She looked to him, her eyes dark with vengeance…and fear. "Let him go," Clint ordered but his voice was softer than a command, was a request, a plea. These men weren't at fault, he was.

"They were going to kill you," Natasha achingly pointed out, like he didn't know their intentions, wasn't hoping that was their intentions. Turning to the man under her knife, she snarled, "And I'm not going to let that happen," her knife digging deeper, turning red with the man's blood.

Tightening his grip on Natasha's hand, holding it back from increasing its pressure, Clint drew closer to Natasha, waited until her attention fell again on him before he reassured. "I'm fine." Smiled. "Took worse beatings from you."

In spite of herself, Natasha smiled and then roughly released the man she held with a nearly inhuman growl. Watched as the agents departed, giving her a leery glance. But some dared to level a reckoning glare at Barton and she took a menacing step forward, only to have Clint step into her path, his eyes finding hers.

"Seems like I owe you a debt this time around," Clint lightly pointed out but Natasha's eyes spat fire.

"You could have taken all them, blindfolded! But …you didn't. Didn't fight back, didn't even defend yourself," she accused, stepping closer to her partner, daring him to lie to her face even as she hoped he would open up to her, drop the habit of being so civil around her, so careful with his words, so guarded. He didn't need to be guarded, not around her. She thought he knew that.

Turning away from Natasha, Clint watched the agents disappear through the doorway. "They have a right to their hatred."

Circling around Clint until they were toe to toe, Natasha countered, "And you have the right to knock their teeth out." Then, gently she reached up, wiped the blood from his cut lip, trailed her hand down his inflamed cheek that would soon morph into a bruise.

But he jerked away and she knew it wasn't because her touch had hurt him. No, it was because it hadn't. Because all he cared about lately was pain, feeling pain that was greater than the one he carried within. So she gave him what he wanted, snagged his bruised jaw with cruel fingers, hated that she sensed the satisfaction in him even as she read the pain. "Loki made you kill those men. You didn't have control, couldn't stop yourself. You would never…."

"What? Kill anyone?" He bitterly dared, bleak eyes boring into hers. "That's in my job description, Natasha. It's what I do best. And Loki said I had heart…apparently the heart of a killer. He could tell that all I'll ever be is a weapon." Then he pried her fingers loose and started to walk away.

"Then why'd you save me?" Natasha challenged to his back. "If you're this …this killer, why didn't you kill me like Fury ordered you to?"

Clint stopped at the doorway, couldn't face Natasha, couldn't hurt her. He didn't want to be a weapon used against her, not ever again. Knew it would be best if he told her that he had spared her because he knew she could be an asset to SHEILD. But the truth was, he saw something in her worth saving, some part of her that _wanted_ to be saved. And, strange as it was, he had wanted to be the one who saved her.

"Just…stay away from me, Natasha. Please," he entreated, his back to her. And then he was gone, slipped out the door and prayed that she listened to him, understood that, whatever she thought he was, her savior, her champion, her trustworthy partner, he was none of those things. Couldn't be trusted to be any those things, not anymore…maybe never had been. And the sooner she realized that, the safer she would be.

Stunned to be left alone with Clint's words still striking against her like a wave, Natasha felt her chest tighten, knew that she was close to crying and not for some manipulation. But for herself, her own confusion, her own fear, her own hurt. Suddenly Loki's words echoed in her head like that they had so very often before, that he would force Clint to kill her in the ways she feared most.

And by some sick twist of fate, that was happening. But Clint, he was doing it all on his own.

Because what she feared most, it was losing Clint. Loki had unintentionally shown her that, had felt it in her soul when Coulson had called, had simply said, "Barton's been compromised." And her world had fallen into disarray, she had fallen into disarray. Everything she thought she knew about herself, how she perceived her relationship with Clint Barton, how she thought she would react if she lost her partner one day, it was all revealed as finely crafted lies.

The truth was, she would shrivel up and fade away if her favorite fellow SHEILD agent was taken from her. And it had nothing to do with ledgers and debts and tallies. No, instead, it had everything to do with the undeniable fact that she was in love with Clint Barton.

It was almost just desserts that she would finally admit to herself that she loved a man, only to have that man suddenly tell her to stay away from him. And though she knew his motivations, that he feared he would hurt her, it made her want to punch a wall. Didn't Barton get that when she had said she was compromised, she didn't mean by Loki, she meant by him, by her feelings for him. That her invincible status had turned to ash the second she understood that the bargain she pretended to make with Loki for Barton's life…it wasn't all a game. Not to her. Not when the only thing she had truly cared about was getting back the man she loved.

Cursing, she slid down the nearest wall. She didn't know how to help Clint, how to take his guilt away, to ease the pain in his eyes. All she knew was that she wanted to. Found that she wanted absolution for him more than she'd ever want it for herself. She only wished that she knew how to get it for him, how to make him take it, accept that he was worthy of it.

So maybe there was a debt she still needed to repay to Clint. He had once convinced her that her life was worth sparing, that she could be an asset to SHEILD. But it was more than that. He had grown to trust her to have his back, to protect his life, against all comers. And that trust hadn't been misplaced, not his in her. '_And not mine in him_,' she stated, wished she could tell Clint that and he'd believe her.

But she had not been taught by empty declarations. Clint had taught her by actions, his actions and she would do the same, would show Clint that he was worth sparing, that she trusted him more than anyone else in the world, that, yes, Loki had used him as a weapon, but he was so much more than that. Was a man of conscience, of compassion, of goodness. And she'd rip out the heart of anyone that dared to say any different.

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TBC

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Thanks so much for reading! I would love to hear if you enjoyed this segment.

I actually went a little obsessive and have the story all written. So I'm playing with the idea of doing daily updates. There are 6 chapters so it would wrap up this week.

However, I did run into one little snag but I'm hoping you guys can put it to a vote. I was going to imply that Hawkeye and Tony met each other before the Avenger movie storyline, had a slight comradeship. But then I realized I couldn't corroborate that.

So what are your thoughts? Did they meet before or not? Do you want me to imply that they met before? I'll tally up your votes and let you guys decide which way to tweak my story. It's, by far, not a major point in this story but I didn't want to be way off base.

Have a great evening!

Cheryl W.


	3. Chapter 3: Flex

Fly True

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Avengers or Hawkeye or any of the other superheroes gracing this work of fiction nor am I making any profit from this tale.

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Chapter 3: Flex

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Facing his team, Nick Fury outlined, "Barton will infiltrate their unit, do some recon."

"Ah, yeah, no," Tony Stark objected from his leaning position against the back wall, purposefully not looking Barton's direction.

Fury put his hands on his hips and retorted, "Then who? You, Mr. Playboy who's been in the news more than Lindsey Lohan. Captain America who graces collector cards. Thor, the god from another realm. Or Banner, who could turn everything into rumble. No, we need someone less high profile."

"And still I'm not motivated to change my mind," Tony drawled like they were discussing color schemes for his new office at Stark headquarters.

Turning his chair to face Stark, Clint lowly insisted, "It's not your decision." He knew that he had lost the other man's confidence in him on that other mission but refused to let Stark force him to the sidelines. He belonged on the front lines, needed to be there, where the action was.

But it was Fury who replied. "No. It's mine and I've made it."

Pushing off the wall, Tony stalked toward Fury, desperation and anger obliterating his nonchalant façade. "You want to get him killed, that it?"

Barton stood, growled, "I can take care of myself."

'_But will you_?' Tony silently asked of the archer, saw the man's jaw clench like he could read his mind. Avoiding that landmine, he went back to a more predictable opponent, Fury. "You've got guys that can bench press cars and you're putting in a guy who…"

"Who what? Got possessed and killed a bunch of his own!" Barton acidly provided, ripping the air from the room.

Steve spoke in the void, chose his words carefully, especially in light of Barton's prior comments about being merely human. "We're not talking about trust," his eyes holding Barton's. "We're talking about risk levels. For any of us on our own," he stressed, didn't want to get into a debate about vulnerabilities among their team.

Fury gave a huff of air that was a concession. "Alright. Fine. Captain, you back him up. Hawkeye, if things go south, give the signal. That clear?" he demanded of his agent and didn't blink until Barton nodded his head in agreement but his agent didn't look all that happy.

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Suited up, Captain America stalked down the corridors of the Helicarrier to rendezvous with Barton on the deck for their mission. He wasn't prepared to have Tony Stark step out of a corridor right into his path and demand, "We need to talk."

"I'm on a schedule here," Steve hedged, had an idea that whatever Stark wanted to talk about, he wouldn't like.

"For the big mission, I know," Tony sarcastically drawled, saw the crease in Steve's forehead and knew he was going about this all the wrong way, like usual.

Steve began to stiffly defend, "I know you're not supportive of this mission but the objective is….."

"Important," Tony solemnly allowed. "I got that. But…" he hesitated, didn't quite know how to say what he meant, especially not in the hallway. "Watch out for Barton."

Stiffening at the slight to their fellow team member, Steve steely reproached, "You really don't trust anyone, do you? He saved lives in Manhattan, specifically saved your life on more than one occasion. He…"

But Tony cut across Steve's next declaration. "If you would just shut up for a minute maybe I could explain." And that did cause Rogers to fall silent. "I didn't mean….don't _trust_ Barton, I meant…" he cleared his throat, wasn't used to making these types of requests. "…don't let anything happen to him." Because, somewhere along the line, Clint had become a friend of his, a good friend. And he wasn't keen to lose him, would take what steps he had to take to ensure he didn't.

Stunned, Steve opened his mouth then closed it. He would have never credited the playboy billionaire with being the concerned, brotherly type. '_Guess I don't know him as well I think I do.' _Instead of scoffing at the other man's obvious worry, he soberly questioned, "You really think this mission is that dangerous?"

Tony fidgeted, didn't want to rat out what he perceived was suicidal tendencies in Barton. "I think…Barton's taking risks he shouldn't lately."

Before Steve could process Stark's statement, the other man was walking off, leaving him to draw his own conclusions. Not one to pass judgment without gathering his own proof, Steve decided to do his own study of Barton, doubted Stark knew what the SHEILD agent's _normal_ risks were. That saving Manhattan from an alien attack, that was probably just a regular Saturday for Barton. That setting explosives in a building and then getting as far away as possible as quickly as possible as Barton had done in the last mission, that was just standard operating procedure.

But as he resumed his trek to join his fellow Avenger, Steve remembered the fear he had felt when he saw Barton dropping from the sky. The way Clint had brushed off his concern the prior week about the bruises on his face. That coupled with Stark's uncharacteristic show of real concern made Steve re-evaluate how he would let their mission play out. If he didn't like something he heard on the other end of the comm link, he would extract Barton, with or without receiving the agent's signal of distress.

He had lost enough friends. He wasn't going to lose any more.

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Clint wasn't sure what was more annoying, the gun pointed at his head or Captain America screaming through his earwig to get down. It was humiliating really, letting the gun toting henchman in front of him think he was getting on his knees to beg him for mercy. But the embarrassment didn't last long, not after a nicely aimed explosive tore a hole in the south wall, rained debris all over him but took out nearly all the targets.

For a bit, his hearing was wonky, and his balance was off as he used some broken desks to clamor to his feet. Then the screaming in his ear resumed. "Barton? Clint? Are you OK? Report!"

"I'm good," he replied, his voice hoarser than he expected. "Targets are.." he kicked one of the men struggling to get off the ground and punched a second, "neutralized. But, thanks to your overreaction, I think the weapon along with its schematics might be unsalvageable."

Crossing over to the center of the room, he touched the warped metal of the prototype, yanked his hand back at the heat the metal was throwing off. "Why'd you move in! I didn't give you the go ahead to attack," he angrily demanded, his inspection revealing that the computer chip and the paper schematics were both burned beyond hope. It figured that spot would be ground zero for Captain Jumps-the-Gun's assault.

"No, you didn't give me the signal but in another second they were going to kill you!" Steve shouted as he began running for the door of the building Barton was in, ten stories up. "I'm coming to you."

"I don't need an extraction! The hostiles are …" As if to prove him wrong, a bullet zipped by his head. Dropping behind the meager shelter of a broken in half desk, he silently cursed as bullets sank into the topside of the desk.

Hearing the gunfire through the comm link, Steve ran faster, wasn't expecting the welcoming committee in the building's first floor, barely had time to dive through the door into a forward roll that took him behind a receptionist's desk. "Oh, yeah. You have the hostiles all taken care of," he sarcastically taunted his teammate.

"I will soon," Clint bragged as he cowered behind a desk, weaponless.

"I called for reinforcements, so stay put. I'll find a way to you," Steve promised as he came from behind his cover, fired off shots as he waded into the forces on the ground floor.

Clint was about to wave Steve off again from that course of action but suddenly he had five someones front and center to deal with. Slowly looking up, seeing the gun barrels leveled at him, he spoke to Steve, "I'll meet you on the 1st floor in five minutes." And he enjoyed the men's snickers, right before he did a leg sweep, knocked two of them off their feet. Though he took a healthy kick to his head that sent his earwig flying even as he rolled forward, he still managed to grab the closest downed man's weapon.

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Helplessly, Steve listened to the repeated gunfire echoing through the comm. But what was worse was the silence that fell in its wake. When he couldn't get a reply from Barton, he feared that what he had heard was the murder of his fellow Avenger. His blood ran cold at that thought.

Brazenly, he stood up from behind his latest shelter, used his shield to deflect the gunfire and ran for the stairwell. He needed to reach his friend, now! Even if it were too late, he would still arrive in time to punish those who had taken away his teammate.

So he was making the corner in the stairwell to gain the fifth floor when he nearly ran into a slow moving Clint Barton. Overwhelming relief had Steve exhaling sharply and he put out a hand to steady himself against the wall that Barton was leaning against. "Are you alright?"

Barton's eyes clashed with his. "Yes. Why are you always asking me that. Oh, right. Because I'm the weak link in the team." Then he went to slip by Steve, misgauged the passing zone and unintentionally knocked his shoulder into Steve's. Wincing in pain, he hurriedly took two steps, hoping the other man missed his display of weakness.

And Steve had, but he had noticed others things. Like the fact that Barton had been leaning against the wall when he found him and that his friend's complexion didn't hold much color. Trailing behind Barton, he tossed out at the other man's back, "If you were weak, you'd be dead a couple times over just since I met you."

Liking that, Clint smirked in spite of himself. But the next second he halted, leaned against the wall and aimed his borrowed .45 at the landing on the stairwell to the 4th floor. Could sense Steve behind him, waiting like he was, for the sound of gunfire vibrating through the stairs to grow closer, for a new wave of attackers to turn the corner and come at them.

It took everything Steve had to not step in front of Barton, to not treat Barton how the archer perceived himself: as the weak link in the team. Barton wasn't weak, Steve knew that, but what the archer was….was vulnerable compared to the rest of the team, besides Natasha. The two SHEILD agents didn't have heightened speed or strength or advanced healing abilities. They were, in fact, just humans. And Steve knew firsthand how very fragile human lives were, how one second a friend could be at his side and the next they were taken from him forever.

But he knew that Barton didn't want to be protected, wanted something more valuable: To be trusted. Trusted to not only take care of himself but to protect the other team members and protect the cause they all fought for. So Steve stayed behind the team's archer, his hands white around the grip of his shield, his heart pounding, his every muscle taunt and ready to be unleashed into motion. He jumped when someone's voice came through his earwig.

"Captain, this is agent Yerger, we are on scene and have secured 1st floor. We are advancing to 2nd through the stairwell."

Smiling, Steve patted Barton's shoulder in a gesture for him to stand down as he replied, "Be advised, Agent Barton and I are in the stairwell and are making our way to the ground floor."

"Copy that," the agent replied.

"The cavalry's arrived and has cleaned up the 1st floor," Steve announced, saw some of the tension slip from Barton, which only made the agent look even more haggard. Before he could voice his concerns again, the man was on the move. And Steve was about to follow him…when he saw something on the wall where Barton had been leaning a second ago: blood.

Charging down the stairs, Steve easily caught up with Barton. Not daring to touch the other man since he was not sure where he was injured, he skirted by Clint and came to stand two steps below the archer and effectively halted his teammate's forward motion. Visually scanning Clint for telltale signs of his injury, he scowled when he noted that blood was coating his friend's right hand and was beginning to drip onto the stairs at his feet. "You're hurt," he said in half accusation and half worried fear, his hands beginning to carefully inspect Barton's hand and arm.

But Clint pulled back, gruffly deflected, "Flesh wound, that's all."

Instead of retreating, Steve closed in the gap between them, met Clint's eyes head on. "I'm a soldier, just like you Clint. I know about wounds, more than I ever wish I did. Know that all are serious if they aren't properly treated." Then he reached for the hole he finally spied in the fabric of his friend's sleeve but Barton's hand arrested his motion.

"I'll get it treated back at the base," Clint stated, pushing Steve's hand away.

Though Steve was far stronger than Barton, he didn't override the man's grip, waited until Clint released him before he coiled his hand around the edge of the archer's vest, cinched the man a few inches closer to him. "I lost my best friend in battle. Then I lost my whole team, my whole…_universe_," he admitted, a raw catch to his tone. "I joined Fury's group only because the world needed saving. I agreed to work with the other Avengers because I thought everyone was indestructible, that there was no way I would have to worry about them dying on me." He gave a bittersweet smile. "But one fine day in Manhattan with you guys and that delusion was over." Barton nodded his head in acknowledgement and his lips turned up into a small smile. That day had almost been the death of them all. Would have been if they hadn't pulled together, hadn't had each other's backs.

"After that, I wanted to pack it in, go back to the gym…hide," Steve confessed, the truth of his statement shining in his eyes. "But I found I couldn't do it, knew that if something happened to any of you because I wasn't there…I couldn't live with that." Then all anguish fled and his gaze turned molten with angry resolve. "So I'm here, where I should be and I'm not losing my friends this time. I can't. So you can take a swing at me, whatever, but I'm gonna take a look at your arm. And we're going to review what constitutes an indefensible position and what signs indicate that it's time to signal your partner that you're in trouble and need back up, because, apparently, you're a little confused about those things."

Furious at the chiding, Clint snarled, "I had the situation under control and if you wouldn't have lobbed a grenade into the room, we'ld have the weapon we came for right now."

"And you'ld be dead!" Steve yelled back, giving Clint a shake as if he hoped that would jar the man into getting his head on straight.

"The mission comes first, Captain. Thought your precious Colonel Phillips would have taught you that," Barton volleyed back, knew that mentioning the captain's commanding officer in World War II was a low blow even as the words left him.

Steve went stock still for a moment. Then he felt his hand beginning to form a fist before he got his emotions under control. Without a word, he began to descend the stairs, was tugging Barton down with him none too gently. "We only sacrifice lives when every other avenue has been exhausted," he growled, ushered Barton to the side as the SHEILD agents suddenly were there, charging up the stairs. After briefing their CO and watching the unit continue up the stairs, Steve turned back to his companion, who, at that moment, looked like the only thing keeping him on his feet was the wall.

Steve's voice was almost gentle when he spoke to Barton. "I had your back. When you suspected you were compromised, all you had to do was tell me and I would have been there."

"I had a way out," Barton insisted pushing off the wall but the Captain put a hand on his chest, barred his way.

"Did you?" Steve quietly asked, heart thudding in his chest waiting for a reply. And it was there in the other man's eyes, the answer he didn't want to face. "I heard what they said to you." He knew he had hit the right nerve when Barton tried to slip by him. He shoved the other man up against the wall, held him there. "They thought you were working against SHEILD."

"Still," Clint coldly clarified. "Their contacts told them how I led the assault team against the Helicarrier. They were impressed," a sick, bitter edge to his words.

Steve took a step back, gave Clint some room even as he ran a hand through his blond hair, tried to figure out how to ease some of the guilt Barton was carrying. "Did Fury know that…."

"We knew them knowing that intel was my ticket inside. That's the only reason they didn't kill me when I walked through the front door," Barton almost smugly revealed.

But Steve's eyes blazed with rage. "Fury used you..put you in a volatile situation."

Barton shrugged. "Was worth going against the odds." Then he scoffed, "Who knew that even this bunch of reprobates had honor, that they wouldn't trust a guy who turned against his own organization."

"It wasn't you," Steve fiercely declared, couldn't stand to see Clint bear the guilt for Loki's evil.

Barton gave a pained lopsided smile. "No? Well, the guy had perfect aim. Maybe Fury can hire him to replace me."

And then Barton was heading down the stairs, leaving Steve standing there, stunned and at a loss of how to make any of it better for his friend. Suddenly Captain America wanted another go at Loki, wanted the Asgardian to know real pain. Course Loki would have to have a heart in order to feel pain to the depths that Barton did. So true retribution wasn't possible.

Instead, all Steve could do was follow his teammate. Cornering Clint in the SHEILD helicopter, he gently grabbed hold of the man's injured arm. Ripping the fabric of Clint's sleeve, he winced at the welling blood seeping from the bullet wound. His eyes lifted to the agent's but there was only an impenetrable wall reflecting back. Barton would give no reaction to his pain, would bury it down deep.

It made Steve tend to the wound with immeasurably more care. The man had been hurt enough, he refused to add to his friend's pain. But what plagued him most was what was illusive to him: A way to prevent Clint from pushing himself to the breaking point.

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TBC

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I'm just loving every single supportive review! And all the alerts are so cool to see. So thank you so much! And the voting is still open about whether or not Tony and Clint had a past association, or if its' OK if I imply they did. That decision will play out in the final chapter.

Have a wonderful day!

Cheryl W.


	4. Chapter 4: Vane

Fly True

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Avengers or Hawkeye or any of the other superheroes gracing this work of fiction nor am I making any profit from this tale.

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Chapter 4: Vane

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Bruce Banner AKA The Hulk, looked up when he heard a ruckus at the door and found Steve Rogers leading Clint Barton into the medic area. He immediately knew who required his particular skill of sets. "What did you do to yourself this time?" he directed at Barton, helping Steve steer the archer to the nearest exam table.

"I didn't do anything. I got shot," Barton protested, giving Steve the hairy eyeball for practically lifting him onto the table.

"Right," Banner seemed to agree before he continued, "Three weeks ago it was a bruised face and broken ribs from falling, the month before it was burns. Before that…."

"Talk to the bad guys. They're the ones who are playing rough," Barton groused, cutting off Banner's tally.

But above Barton's head, Steve and Banner exchanged worried looks. Even the bad guys didn't get this lucky against someone as skilled as Hawkeye.

Giving Clint's unwounded shoulder a pat, Steve said, "Well, I'll check in on you later." Received a nod in response and then, with a twinge of reluctance, Rogers left Clint in Banner's capable hands.

Leaning over his patient, unwrapping Rogers' field bandage on the bullet wound, Bruce said with reprimand in his tone, "Thought we talked about you not coming to me and needing patched up for like…a year."

Clint's jaw clenched. "If it was up to me, I wouldn't have come to you at all. The freaking Captain dragged me here."

"Oh, I know you never come of your own free will," Bruce accredited. "Tony ratted you out about the burns, course even the KP duty staff could tell that you were ground zero at an explosion. Tasha _threatened_ me into checking you over for broken ribs and then was cowardly enough to not have my back when I confronted you." His eyes seeking Barton's, wondering if the man would give a hint of why Natasha was keeping her distance from not only Barton but everyone else. But Barton was a closed book. On all topics.

"Exactly my point. None of that was me coming to you," Clint bit out.

"Course not. Suffering, after all, is the point," Bruce pegged, watched the flickering of an emotion he understood too well in the younger man's eyes.

"Don't," Clint growled. "Don't analyze me," and he started to push himself up but Bruce's not inconsiderable strength pushed him back to the bed.

Hand on Clint's chest to hold the other man in place, Bruce smiled but there was no mirth in it, only despair. "I don't have to analyze you, I know me. I tried everything but the Hulk was indestructible…except maybe to aliens. But your body…."

"It has its limits. Is _fragile_, right?" Clint sneered, was so sick of hearing that he was the chink in the Avengers' armor.

But there wasn't condemnation in Banner's eyes, was instead, understanding and concern. "In a word, yes. So stop trying to break it." Then his lips turned up into a devious smile. "Unless you want Stark and I to go all Frankenstein on you, put you back together with iron, Arc Reactors and gamma rays."

Clint laughed. "I need a new Living Will that states that I do not want to be resuscitated or turned into a superhero or a science project."

Banner smiled. "You could but Tony doesn't seem to be the type to care about a little piece of paper when it comes to saving the lives of the people he cares about."

That instantly sobered Clint. He didn't know where Banner was getting his notion that Tony liked him, let alone cared about him.

Bruce marked the change in his patient, wondered how the astute soldier could be so clueless about how his teammates felt about him. '_Guess that'll just be something we teach him_,' he decided before he injected Barton with a sedative.

"Hey!" Barton protested the needle prick and gave Banner an irate glare. "You're supposed to ask if I want a painkiller before you administer it."

"I know. That there was a sedative," Banner smugly explained.

"What? No," Barton seethed, pushing Banner back and leaping off the exam table. The last thing in the world he wanted was to be locked in his nightmares without the ability to wake up. But he stumbled as the drug started to do its work. "Why?" he demanded of the doctor he thought he could trust.

Stepping forward and grabbing Clint's arms, Banner kept his patient from collapsing onto the floor. "Because you look like the walking dead," his condemnation softened by the concern in his tone as he manhandled Clint back to the table. Forcing the man to lie down again and picking his legs up and settling them on the bed, he looked down at the Archer. "I'ld ask if you get any sleep but you'ld probably not tell me the truth."

"I sleep," Clint insisted but his words were starting to slur. Rapidly blinking his eyes, he fought the drug's pull.

"Not enough," Banner predicted. Slipping his fingers to Barton's throat, he detected the fluttering heart rate under his touch. "Just take it easy. We're in a secure location, you have no upcoming missions and I'm not inclined to go green anytime soon. You can rest."

Barton tossed his head a bit, wished he had the power to dispel the growing lassitude settling over him. "Don't want to rest. Don't want to…dream," he said before he fell into the void.

Hearing the soldier sounding so vulnerable, lying so still, it shook Banner up. It made him remember that medicine could not cure all human ailments, especially not when the hurt was in the soul. That was far harder to treat. He had even thought it impossible to treat. Until a group of extraordinary people recently showed him that the pain could be tempered, that his pain could be eased. But not on his own.

Now the trick was to pass that same lesson on to the wounded man that was now lying so compliant under his skilled physician hands. And for that, he would need help. He had no doubt that he would get it. Because Clint Barton might be blind to the devotion of his new friends, but Banner wasn't. Together they would heal their friend and would make sure he didn't lose his way again.

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TBC

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Thanks for the generous compliments on last chapter and for everyone out there reading this story!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


	5. Chapter 5: Overdrawn

Fly True

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Avengers or Hawkeye or any of the other superheroes gracing this work of fiction nor am I making any profit from this tale.

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Chapter 5: Overdrawn

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The Archer had never looked more fragile, more human…more lifeless than he did draped in Thor's arms. For being a god, the Asgardian was surprisingly gentle, held almost possessively onto his burden. He did not pull his focus from Clint's so white face.

The man had saved his life, he had no delusions about that. Even his Asgardian body had need of air. And his foe knew that, had clamped his scaly, massive hand around his throat and began to slowly cut off his oxygen. Though his vision was being edged with blackness, Thor saw Barton behind his assailant. His eyes widened as he came to understand the man's intentions, knew they were ill advised, would only end with the archer's death. He tried to gurgle out a protesting "No!" but the Archer's arrow had already been loosened.

The arrow struck its mark, caused Thor's opponent to howl in rage and toss him aside to focus on the pest that had dared to inflict pain on him. Though Thor screamed at himself to get up, to attack, to stop the scaly creature from reaching the human, he was only able to make a faltering crawl forward. Could only watch in horror as the creature withdrew the arrow from its scaly body, tossed it aside, didn't even flinch as the explosives in the arrow detonated. The creature had his target in sight.

Having gained the creature's incessant attention, Clint looked to Thor, made sure the man still breathed. Relieved when Thor moved, Clint notched another arrow, aimed for the creature's eye, even as he knew it was futile. The creature's healing ability would regenerate any damage he managed to make. But killing the creature wasn't his true goal, saving Thor was. So meeting the Asgardian's gaze, he fired his shot, heard the creature howl and then he began to run, would draw the battle away until Thor regained his strength and could devise a plan to defeat their common enemy.

Thor howled in pained horror when the creature's massive claw lashed out, struck Hawkeye, sent the human's blood splattering onto the leaves of the underbrush. Then the creature flung the archer aside into the forest like he was not worth his continued attention. It was Thor's rage, his fear that got the god on his feet, had him screaming in fury and attacking the creature with renewed strength that surpassed his usual reserves.

In the end, the creature fell easily to his rage, its blood coating the forest floor.

And then Thor sought out his fellow Avenger, prayed to the gods that the man still lived. And he did, barely. His clothing bloody, his body lying on the ground like a forlorn puppet, his eyes closed….his bow broken at his side. "No," Thor choked out as he fell to his knees beside Barton. "No, my friend. It can not end like this. You can not give me a debt that I can not repay," he entreated. Slipping his large hands under the man's broken body, he came to his feet, carried Barton like he was a child that demanded the gentlest of touches and the fiercest protection.

When Banner approached, Thor sank to his knees, laid Clint down on the ground, careful to gently settle the man's head onto the ground.

Banner ripped open Clint's shirt and immediately fought to control his rage, instructed himself to overlook the gushing blood, the sight of white bone breaking through the archer's skin. Leaning down, he listened for the sound of a heartbeat. There wasn't one. Cursing, he began chest compressions, could feel the broken bones in the man's chest shift under his hands.

"He …he saved my life," Thor brokenly stammered. With rage surging in his tone, he spat, "That creature struck him down. Enjoyed it!"

Behind Thor, a horrified cry erupted. "NO! Clint!" Then Natasha stole by Thor, crashed to her knees at Clint's side and cupped Clint's face within her hands. "Clint!" her voice shattering on his name, at the horrified sight of his blood coating everything, of the coldness of his skin under her touch.

"Natasha, I need you to do mouth to mouth," Banner instructed, snapped, "Natasha!" when the distraught agent didn't seem to register his words. It broke her from her stupor and she compliantly began to use her breath to keep Clint alive. "Thor, I need you to get bandages out of my bag, put them on the worst of his bleeding wounds and put pressure on them." Thor immediately did his biding, winced when his pressure on the bandage only caused the sterile white to turn red all the quicker.

As the three feverishly worked to keep Clint alive, Banner wondered if Barton was fighting too. And if he was, was it with them…or against them.

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The machines declared Barton was alive but without their informative beeps, one would doubt that truth.

The Black Widow seemed diminutive as she sat as close as she could to Clint's bed, held onto the comatose man's hand with one hand while wiping away one of her stray tears with the other. "I'ld do anything for you, you know that, right? And it's not about some ledger, some debt I owe you," she thickly told him, tenderly running her fingers through his hair.

"When Loki took you, I knew I would get you back or die trying. And what Loki wanted you to do to me…" she couldn't bring herself to repeat Loki's claim. "What he didn't understand was, if I died by your hands, I would have been OK with that. Was the way things began with us and I could bear that they end that way…as long as you lived."

Leaning forward she gave Clint a tender kiss on the lips, wished that he would wake up, tell her that she was crossing the boundaries that they had established from the start. But he did nothing, barely breathed, barely lived. She couldn't hold back her sob as she buried her face in his shoulder, took a few hard swallows before she found her voice. "I'll never forgive you if you leave me." Pulling back, she watched his immobile face. "I don't think you want that hanging over you. I'm Russian, so I can hold a grudge forever."

She startled when there was movement in the doorway. Even as her eyes flew to that sector of the room, her fingers reached for the weapon at her waist. But it was simply Thor who filled the entranceway. Reluctantly, she withdrew her touch from Clint and stood up. Knew the Asgardian desired time alone with Barton but it was still difficult to walk away, couldn't without giving Clint one more despairing glance.

Thor paced around the bedridden Archer, his eyes never leaving the man's nearly translucent face. "I have waged my fair share of wars. I know when the odds are insurmountable." Here he paused, drew to the side of the gravely wounded man. "My fate was in my own hands. I did not wish for you to take it upon yourself, would not have asked such a thing of you. Of anyone," angry despair roughing his words before he hung his head, sank into the seat that Natasha had vacated.

Lifting his eyes to Barton's profile, he wrapped his massive hand around the man's limp one. "You are not to die in my place, Archer. I will not allow it. If you resist, we will have contention between us. And that would pain me, as I have few I call friends but you are among them. It is not a thing I take lightly and by your actions, neither do you. So honor our friendship…and cling to this life, Clint Barton. We have need of your brave heart."

And Thor, the man that ruled a realm, humbly remained at a mere human's side and entreated the gods to spare his life.

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TBC

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You guys are so wonderful to me! Thanks for your continued support!

One more chapter to go! I'm hoping to post it tomorrow morning but if I miss that window, I'll end up posting it near the midnight hour here in the US. Course your lovely reviews could entice me to hop out of bed early tomorrow and get it posted lickety-split just so I can find out if you like the ending!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W


	6. Chapter 6: Balance

Fly True

By: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the Avengers or Hawkeye or any of the other superheroes gracing this work of fiction nor am I making any profit from this tale.

Author's Note: Well the votes are tallied: But it's a bit tricky. Most of you voted that, in the movie verse, Tony and Clint didn't know each other prior to the Avengers movie …but nearly all of you said you wouldn't mind if I implied they had. Meanwhile, some people pointed out that the comics do have the two characters meeting earlier. So I'm going to take the gracious permission the majority of you allowed me and imply that Tony and Clint did some work together before the Avenger movie storyline. Thanks so much for helping me make that decision!

Now on with the conclusion of our story….

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Chapter 6: Balance

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Director Nick Fury had lost more than his fair share of soldiers under his command. It was the nature of war.

It was why he tried not to have favorites, to not get emotionally invested in the personnel under his command. But from the very start, Clint Barton had stood out from the rest. "I knew you were gonna be a handful the first time you gave me that smug smile of yours while you blindly released the arrow and it hit its mark, dead on," he told the soldier lying so unnervingly motionless in the bed he stood beside.

"Don't think I ever confessed this but I was the one who gave the order for your Iraqi mission to get cut short, not that brainless CO you had at the time. I just let him take the wrap because I knew you would be pissed," Nick chuckled but there was a hardness that followed on its heels. "That mission should have been scraped soon as you lost 90% of your men. Longer you stayed out there, the surer I was that all you were gonna accomplish was getting yourself killed. Even I knew then that you deserved better than that for your service, for a man with your skills."

Seeing that Barton wasn't about to speak up and downplay his own attributes, Nick claimed the often occupied chair beside Barton's bed. It hadn't gone without his notice that his ace marksman had started to get careless with his own life, and it didn't take a man of his years of warfare to figure out why. Guilt. "Tell me, who advised me to always wear body armor? You did. So if you wanted to kill me in the Dark Energy SHEILD bunker, you would have done a headshot. Instead, you shot me in the chest, right where you knew my armor was. And Hill, you missed her with a full clip of ammo. Agent, if you were really that piss poor of a shot, your Hawkeye moniker would be a joke, not a compliment."

Folding his hands, he leaned closer to his agent, hoped some of his words got through. "What I'm saying is…you somehow fought Loki's…the Tesseract's hold on you enough to not kill me or Hill. Or Natasha. Because, you two engaged in hand to hand combat with you looking for a kill, no way she walks away unscathed. Wouldn't happen…unless you wanted it to." Regardless what his two agents thought, he knew the score between them, maybe better than either one of them did.

He sighed, gripped Barton's forearm above the IV. "You only had so much strength to resist, Barton. You had to pick your battles. I understand that…and so should you. And if you're gonna give me the load of crap you've been giving everyone else about being the weak human link in the Avengers team, you're forgetting one very important fact. The first member I assigned to this team wasn't wearing iron plating, wasn't a science experiment gone right…or wrong, and wasn't some guy from out of this world, was just a regular guy, except for the fact that he could shoot an arrow blindfolded and hit his target under almost any circumstance. Wasn't too shabby with a gun either, your hit to my armor in the bunker notwithstanding. And for that, I owe you my life…and it's not the first time. Doubt it'll be the last…unless you do something insubordinate and die on me. Which, if you do die, I'm gonna have Thor turn your bow into kindling with his hammer, thought you should know that."

A voice responded but it wasn't Barton's.

"That was moving," Tony drawled sarcastically, "it really was." But his flippancy soon turned into wrath as he came to stand toe to toe with the SHEILD director. "How about telling him that when, I don't know, he wasn't dying? Bet you never did, did you. Rode him all the time, never gave him a pat on the back, never told him you _forgave_ him for shooting you, assured him that you didn't hold him accountable for the attack on your flying ship. If you had, maybe we wouldn't have had to try and patch him up after every mission you sent him on! Maybe we wouldn't be torn between decorating a cake with 'Thank God you're alive' or simple black icing for the funeral," his voice rising with his emotions.

"Demonstrative advice from you, now that's a laugh," Fury snidely countered. "I turned you down for the Avengers at the start because you're hardly the mold for mental stability."

At the sound of raised voices, Banner rushed into the room, came up short at the arguing twosome. "What are you two thinking! Go rip each other new ones somewhere else."

But the two men didn't even register his presence. "Mental stability, is that what this team's all about?" Tony solicited with derision. "We faced down aliens. ALIENS. That sound like the actions of rational people. But you needed us to do that, just like you stood back and watched Barton try and kill himself on every mission since."

A new voice entered the fray. "And he helped on some occasions," Steve condemned, lancing his blue gaze into Fury. "He sent Barton on that undercover op because the group had intel that Clint led the raid against SHEILD. But you knew they wouldn't trust him. Once you're branded a traitor, your loyalty will always be suspect."

"Barton knew the risks," Fury stoically defended.

Banner pointed to his comatose patient. "Have you looked at him lately? That's where your risk factor shows up in living color."

"Doctor, just remain calm," Fury placated, a little worried the doctor's less than humanitarian side would rear its ugly green head.

"I always knew that our lives were expendable to you," Banner accused, almost wished he could let the Hulk loose on Fury. He certainly could use the extra muscle to pick up Barton and take him away to someplace where he wasn't simply a game piece.

"By the gods, what's happening?" Thor's voice thundered through the small medic ward, rattling the vials on the table as he brought his towering frame into the room.

Banner rolled his eyes. At that decibel, the dead would have heard Thor. Then he saw another visitor had come running at the ruckus, stood in the doorway, shaking, fearing the worst. "Tasha, he's fine," Bruce reassured, watched some color return to her pristine features before anger took over.

"All of you, out of here!" she commanded, chose Captain America's bulging arm to grab onto.

Then they were all talking at once, placing blame, throwing out accusations, giving orders that none were heeding.

Clint woke to that clash of voices. For a second, he thought that he was on a battlefield..until he followed the source of sound and found that he recognized all of the combatants. "Hey," he tried to croak out but his voice was nonexistent. He would have whistled if he breathing wasn't like wading through water. Looking to his left, he saw an empty plastic cup on the tray beside his bed, snagged it with weak fingers and tossed it at his loud visitors. It hit its mark: right between Tony Stark's shoulder blades.

Startled, Tony cut off his words mid-sentence and whirled around. He smiled widely at the sight of his awake friend. "About time you stopped playing possum and letting the rest of us carry the load."

Quickly crossing over to his patient, Bruce cautioned, "Don't try and talk just yet," but he was all smiles too.

Then Natasha pushed through the gathered team and her eyes locked with Clint's. She gave him a coy smile. And for all the times they communicated without talking, Clint wasn't sure how to interpret his partner's look just then. Before he could do more than respond with a confused tilt of his head, the other team members were crowded around him.

"I owe you my life, Clint Barton," Thor solemnly vowed, gave a bow of his head. And the SHEILD agent nearly blushed.

Then Steve was smiling down at him. "I knew you wouldn't leave me alone with these undisciplined Neanderthals. They don't know military hand signals from the hand jive." At Barton's raised eyebrow of wonder, Steve admitted, "I'm listening to the 1950s music right now, not quite ready to jump into Stark's AC/DC."

Clint gave a weak but earnest smile.

Then Fury made his way to his agent's side. "Glad you're going to be alright, son." Tony gave Fury a nudge with his elbow and the director cleared his throat. "And…I should have told you this before but I don't hold you accountable for anything that you did under Loki's influence. As soldiers, we have to accept that some things are out of our control and that was one of those things. That clear?" he demanded, as if he could order the man to release his guilt.

Dutifully, Barton nodded and though there was a lightening in his eyes, the dark didn't wholly vanish. But his gathered friends took it as a step in the right direction.

Slowing sitting up, Clint hung his head as the room spun. Cursed himself for his weakness when he knew he had only a few minutes to make his escape before Banner's return. But the man surely had to start seeing reason. Two weeks laid up healing was way too long. And that was without tacking on his time in a coma.

Trouble was, his body had kept track of every abuse, every motionless second, every still unhealed wound. And it was definitely holding it against him.

"You might want to rethink this idea," Tony Stark drawled as he entered the room. He crossed over to claim a seat in the visitor's chair and put his feet up on the end of the bed, effectively blocking Clint's planned path of escape. "Especially in light of your doctor getting miffed at you could end very badly, for all of us."

Keeping his head bowed, Barton quirked, "So it's all about your safety."

"Absolutely," Tony instantly supplied, but his muscles were poised to leap forward and catch Clint if the archer started to topple from the bed.

Slowly raising his head to eye his visitor, Barton taunted, "You must have lied better to your Iraqi captors."

"Let's just say they had a better incentive plan," Stark deadpanned.

"Yeah," Barton gave a dark chuckle. "Bet they did."

Stark watched Barton roll his shoulders, saw the man's still pale features and knew from his frequent visits the ravaged wounds that the agent's white t-shirt and pants hid. "They taught me something important though. That I liked being alive. I'm hoping this little get away," and Tony raised his hands to encompass the medic ward, "was enough of a wake-up call for you. It sure was for the rest of us."

Clint narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Tony. "You told Banner to take a break."

Stark shrugged noncommittally. "Saw your visitor log had an open spot and thought I would drop by."

Clint went to pull his IV free but Tony moved quicker than he expected, was suddenly there clamping his hand over his. Their eyes clashed.

"I think we need to go over the rules," Tony stated as if Clint should have a clue what he was referring to.  
"Rules?"

"Avengers rules. Every supersecret boy band has rules."

"Like?" Barton prodded because curiosity always got the best of him.

"Oh, I'm glad you asked," and Stark claimed a spot on the bed beside Barton like it was storytime. "Number one: No stealing of the limelight by getting yourself killed. It's totally not fair to the rest of the band."

Barton opened his mouth but Stark was pressing on. "Number two: No prepaid guilt trips around the world for things we can't change."

But Clint shook his head, that edict he couldn't comply to. Not when he had so much to pay for. "I don't get a free pass, not for the things I've done."

Tony nodded his head as if in agreement but his words were all contradiction. "Sure, ok. Then I'm guilty of hundreds of lost lives, Hulk has a few to his count, the Captain thinks he let down his whole generation, Thor's world almost came to ruin, Natasha's got some skeletons in her closet. And Fury, he's got his accountants still tallying the death toll for his little Tesseract project. If you don't believe in clean slates, then none of us can and all of this was for nothing."

Clint knew what Tony was trying to say but couldn't let himself off the hook. "My arrows, my plans, my knowledge, it got people killed, got Coulson killed. He should have seen that coming. I don't think he thought much of me."

"Huh," Tony replied. Pulling his prototype holographic smartphone from his back pocket, he searched for the file he wanted. "Well, when he dropped off his little Avengers starter pack, he didn't just include the facts, dropped me a personal video too. And he said this…" And he hit play, watched the little screen fill with SHEILD agent Phil Coulson's face and the deceased agent's voice carried into the room.

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"_Stark, I know you're not the sentimental type but, just in case it might factor into your decision to help us with the Tesseract problem, Agent Barton was coerced into leaving with Loki. We don't know his location and fear that, once his usefulness to Loki is over, he will be killed. He is a good man and I think you know that."_

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Then the video faded out, left the room void of noise, until Stark spoke. "Don't know but he didn't sound like someone who hated your guts. Sure, he might not have had your collector cards but he was definitely one of your bigger fans."

Stunned at the revelation, Clint croaked out, "That supposed to make me feel better? I played a part in his death."

But Tony shook his head. "No, you played a part in his _life_. A part he valued. And how he died, you don't get to claim that. It was in the line of duty, doing what he believed in most."

Barton exhaled shakily, was still coming to grips with the new world that he had woken up to from his Tesseract haze. "There a number three rule?" he deflected, looked up to Stark, hoped the man read his need for a change of topic.

"Number three: No making Natasha cry… or Thor."

Clint shot Tony a stunned look. "Natasha didn't…."

"Well, one of them did, so you use that intelligence Fury swears you're gifted with and figure it out." Then Tony leaped off the bed, nearly sing songed, "Now back into beddy-bye," as he picked up Clint's legs and gently swung then back into bed before the wounded man could even form a protest. Then Tony flipped the covers back over Clint, gave him a wink and mock whispered, "Pretend you're surprised."

And before Clint could figure out Tony's warning, the members of the Avenger team were crowding into his room, bearing enough food for a tailgate party and rolling in a wide screen TV.

Thor seemed to be elected to be the spokesperson for the group. "Sporting events on Asgard are sacred and your game, football, I am told is your favorite. So we are gathered together to cheer your team to victory."

Barton smiled, gave a knowing look to Natasha who brazenly smiled back, not showing any signs of being repentant for revealing his addiction to the game. But she did hand him a plate bearing a hamburger brimming with the all the fixings he liked before she claimed a spot in the bed beside him.

Meanwhile Steve, Thor and Tony worked to set up the tv before they settled in their chairs and made sure the junk food that they tossed at the end of Clint's bed was within easy reach.

Watching all the activity with anxiety, Bruce came to hoover over Barton. "If this is too much, I'll throw them out."

"You and what green monster," Tony challenged around a chip in his mouth.

But Clint was smiling, looked healthier and happier than he had in a long time. "And miss the game?" He left unspoken what else he wouldn't forfeit again: the company gathered around him. "No way. Course if Fury finds out…."

"I already know," Fury announced from the doorway, his expression thunderous before it melted away to a smile. "And I put ten bucks down against your reigning champions."

Clint hooted, "Well I'm about to be ten dollars richer."

"Don't count your money before the kickoff," Fury warned, claiming his spot in the room a moment before Banner did.

But when the kickoff happened, Clint Barton was preoccupied watching his favorite team…and they weren't wearing football uniforms, were instead, arranged all around him, hadn't left his side. And by the looks of the amount of food that they had lugged into his room, they didn't have plans to leave him any time soon.

He figured the least that he owed them was to stick around, have their backs and somehow repay them for giving him the ability and the heart to salvage his soul and learn how to fly true again.

After all, that was what family did for family.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THE END

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Well, I hope you liked this final chapter. I have to admit, I'm a little sad to see the end of this story. You guys made this such a fun posting experience and all your comments and alerts notifications had me on cloud 9 all week! So, THANK YOU!

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


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